There's Something About Texas
by Liete
Summary: -US/UK- 'If he looked sexy with the glasses, then England was absolutely irresistible.'


**There's Something About Texas**

**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters portrayed.**

**A/N: This is my contribution to the livejournal community usxuk Secret Santa Exchange.  
**

"It's been bothering me for awhile, so I have to ask," England began one day as he shuffled into the conference room behind America, who was stuffing his face with his typical burger and soda. "Just what is so special about those glasses, America?"

America paused mid-bite and turned to give England a scandalized look and huff indignantly. "What's so special?! How could you even ask such a thing?! This is Texas! The Lone Star state! Home of the Alamo! I had to practically pry these glasses out of Mexico's hands!"

England stared deadpan at him, clearly not impressed as America thought he should be. "Do they improve your vision? Let me see," England stated, and because his hands were full of burger and cola, America couldn't stop England from pulling the glasses off his face and putting them on his own.

He was about to protest loudly (you don't mess with Texas!), but his thoughts came to a screeching halt when England turned to face him. He wasn't aware of what England was saying to him because he was focusing on something else entirely.

From a distant corner of his mind he could hear Mexico, with her heavy accent, cursing his name and declaring war, swearing that she'd never give up Texas, even though she had lost it years before. Her face didn't suit those glasses, and after all the blood, sweat and tears he'd shed to get them, America had no qualms with taking them from her and wearing them proudly on his face afterwards. He looked downright sexy with them anyway.

At least that's what he had always told himself, but the sight before him was sending all that he had known to be true into a tizzy of uncomfortable thoughts. If he looked sexy with the glasses, then England was absolutely irresistible. Something about the way the wire frames fit underneath those bushy eyebrows and in front of those green eyes was perfect. Something about the way the shape of his face matched the shape of the glasses was turning America on something awful. He found himself fancying the idea of taking England right then and there, respect for his fellow nations be damned.

Somewhere a record scratched as once again his thoughts abruptly halted. This had to stop.

"Don't touch Texas!" He knew his voice was too high pitched, too desperate, and his face too flushed as he quickly tossed what was left of his meal and snatched the glasses off England's face.

"I wasn't going to break them, you wanker. Calm down," England replied evenly, seemingly oblivious to America's predicament. Of course, America thought, his reaction could be attributed to anger rather than the much more embarrassing truth, and he let out a sigh of relief.

"You still can't touch them! No one can!" America replaced the glasses on his face and stomped off to his seat to collect his thoughts and hopefully cool the burning sensation that was effecting more than just his face.

But as usual, the meeting was so boring that America took to doodling whales and aliens on his notes, but even that lost its novelty after the page was covered. That was when he noticed that England was sitting across from him, listening intently but still turned towards America enough that he could…

He held the glasses up as if to check for dust and scratches when he was really holding them in front of England's face, trying to align them just so with his eyes to achieve the effect from earlier. If England would just turn his head slightly to the left, it would be perfect. America unconsciously leaned over to try to correct the issue himself. His concentration was broken when a hand clapped on his shoulder.

"Enjoying the view~?" A voice whispered in his ear. France was dangerously close to him and following his gaze through the glasses at England.

"F-France!" America squawked, which drew England's attention, and when he turned his head, his face was perfectly aligned with the glasses. What's more, his brow was furrowed, and that added an inexplicable level of attractiveness that hadn't been there before, which sent a jolt straight down to areas not appropriate for important meetings. It was only the briefest moment of pleasure, however, because France was still beside him and looking through the glasses. America quickly put Texas back on his face and tried to suppress his growing blush.

France had seen, hadn't he? The way England would look if he was wearing glasses? What if he didn't find it as sexy? What if he _did_? America didn't want to find out either way and wished for lightning to strike him dead right there so he'd never have to admit to his new found turn-on.

"Ah~ I always thought our golden boy might have better taste, but Angleterre? I suppose it _has_ been coming for centuries, hasn't it?" France waggled his brows knowingly. Across the table, England was still scowling at them.

"Coming for centuries?" America repeated. So wait, he thought, that meant that France _hadn't_ noticed the way England looked with the glasses? He was just teasing him over his general attraction to England? Well, that he could handle. He'd still deny it vehemently, but it wasn't as horrifying as his apparent glasses kink. "I have no idea what you're talking about," America said flatly.

France let out a mournful sigh and clutched at his forehead as he took his seat again. "Oh, what you two have done to my amour! Where is Spain when you need him? I need passion! I need romance!"

"Yeah, whatever," America mumbled and gazed cautiously at England. England gave him a cold look before he turned his attention back to whatever Italy was babbling about.

America wouldn't lie to himself. He had been attracted to England for a very long time, but there was always this or that standing in his way, and more than that, he didn't want to lose England again, so he was content to keep things the way they were. At least, that's how he'd always felt up until England had put Texas on. Now he was certain that he had to have England, wearing nothing but glasses, or he'd go crazy.

But how to go about getting England to put on corrective lenses he didn't need without revealing the truth behind his actions?

It was time, it seemed, for one of his whacky schemes. He flipped his graffiti-ridden notes over and proceeded to draw up overly complicated plans that no one but him would understand. He'd call it Operation: Four Eyes.

Before he knew it, the meeting was adjourned (vaguely he wondered why no one had asked him for his opinions during the whole thing), and every nation was gathering their things and heading for the door, chatting amongst themselves all the while. He chanced another glance over at England, who looked as irritated as ever.

"Wanna get some lunch, Iggy?" America piped up as England stood to leave.

England simply kept walking and didn't bother to look at America as he replied, "I am in no mood for that wretched McDonald's of yours, no."

America just let the bite in England's voice slide right off him and cheerfully jogged to catch up with him. "Nah, it won't be McDonald's! Your choice, come on! I'll even pay for it!"

England paused, as if considering the offer. He turned and coughed into his fist. "Well, if you're going to pay for it, I suppose I could spare the time. Not that I really want to, of course."

"Of course!" America chirped in agreement. "Listen, I've gotta go grab something real quick, so just send me a text when you pick a place out." He started to leave, then paused, thinking of something, and grinned mischievously at England. "You _do_ know how to text, right?"

England's face went bright red. "You…you fool! Of course I know how to text!"

"Just checking! I wasn't sure if an old man like you could handle all this new fangled technology!" He grinned cheekily and didn't wait for England's likely explosive reaction. He had an important purchase to make.

---

Leave it to England to pick out some frou-frou tea parlor (and use complete sentences and proper punctuation in his texts) where the only remotely edible thing was an incredibly boring and tasteless buttered crumpet. Not that it mattered, since the lunch invitation was just a ploy to get England alone and he'd already grabbed a burger before he met up with the Englishman anyway.

He fidgeted nervously, his hands continuously reaching into his pocket and fiddling with the case nestled inside.

England, of course, noticed and frowned deeply. "Will you please sit still? Remember that you said I could pick where we ate."

"I know. I know. Hey, Iggy? Do me a favor?"

"What is it?" If possible, the frown on England's face deepened further.

"Put these on!" America said brightly and slid the case across the table.

England opened the case, revealing wire frames with flat lenses. He looked up at America with an expression that said he thought America was crazy. Crazier than usual, at least.

"And just why do you want me to do this?" England asked curtly, but complied and slipped the glasses on his face. America bubbled with excitement, which popped when the glasses were neatly on England's face. It wasn't the perfection he'd seen in the meeting earlier, not even close.

"You just look so goofy like that I couldn't resist!" America chortled. It was true. With those glasses, England looked ridiculous, but he wouldn't admit how disappointed he was by that fact.

"Oh, you-! Sod off, you bastard!" England snapped and snatched the glasses off his face, replacing them in their case and then throwing it at America. America caught it just in time to see England standing up, red faced with furrowed brows, and turning to leave.

"Don't leave, Iggy! It's just a joke, come on! You can't just leave an unfinished cup of tea like that, anyway."

England gave America a look that just dared him to stop him from leaving, but he slid back into his chair and viciously attacked his crumpet with the butter knife. It took some doing, but America managed to sedate the Englishman with different topics of conversation until England was actually pleasant to be with, and he had a ghost of a real smile on his face.

Meanwhile America wondered what just went wrong with his plan. Was it the style of the frames? But shouldn't there have been at least some attractiveness about him even so? At any rate, he wasn't going to give up. He'd used the easiest and most obvious method, which meant he'd have to use the more unique tactics he'd drawn up on his conference notes.

But first he bought a variety of frames in case one of them made England even more irresistible than Texas had.

So he put various pairs on England's face while he slept.

Slammed them on his face with the excuse that they'd save his eyes from the radioactive waste that had accidentally spilled.

Handed them over claiming they were 3-D glasses for the movie they watched.

Disguised himself as a man giving impromptu eye exams. He thought that one was rather clever.

But each time, England continued to look ridiculous and not ridiculously attractive. America didn't understand why, when he had so many different pairs of glasses in varying shapes and colors, that _none_ of them achieved the effect he was expecting. England was starting to get more than a little suspicious and exasperated with his shenanigans, so America decided to give it one last ditch effort with the frames that were an exact replica of his own Texas.

He didn't bother for finesse or fancy tricks that time, he just greeted England shortly and then shoved the glasses on his face. They were immediately thrown right back at him.

America let out a short yelp as he was dragged roughly downwards by his tie, so he was level with fiery green eyes.

"If you try that again, I will _crush_ your vital regions!!" England seethed through clenched teeth.

America gulped and nodded mutely. England took a deep breath, straightened his tie, and marched stiffly away. He'd done it, though. He'd seen how England looked with that pair of glasses and once again it wasn't anything like he'd been hoping for.

It was about then that America realized with steadily growing horror that it couldn't just be any old glasses, oh no, it had to be his. It had to be Texas. There was just something about England wearing those glasses, those oh so special glasses that represented the great state of Texas, that turned him on more than anything. He felt as though he was betraying someone or something (perhaps himself) with that thought, but he couldn't help it.

"You had this coming, _querido_," America could hear Mexico saying with that sardonic, bitter smile on her face and he had to wonder if she'd had a hand in his predicament somehow. A completely ridiculous notion, to be sure, but he was desperate for any excuse to pin the blame on someone else and Mexico was the best candidate. She'd never really forgiven him for the Mexican-American war and all the land she'd lost, after all.

He was grasping at straws, so he had to put his thoughts in perspective. Which meant it was time for a trip to Texas.

---

Ah, Texas. Where everything was bigger and its residents were a rare breed of their own, both the nicest and scariest folks you'd ever meet, sometimes at the same time. Don't mess with Texas, indeed. But he loved Texas as much as he did any other state and he loved slipping into that southern drawl and wandering out amidst the land where he'd spent many years as a cowboy. And now he wanted to take his glasses, that represented that state, and put them on England's face. Willingly.

"The stars at night are big and bright deep in the heart of Texas!" America caterwauled in abject misery as he walked amidst a group of people, knowing that the inevitable reaction would cheer him up.

"The prairie sky is wide and high deep in the heart of Texas!" Chimed in a chorus of civilian voices.

Ah, his citizens were such good people. Truly. He hoped they'd forgive him for wanting to screw England so badly while he wore their state on his face.

…No, probably not. They might finally follow through with those ideas of seceding and becoming an independent republic once more. Or he'd be shot, one or the other. Luckily they weren't even aware of his existence and he no intentions of telling anyone about his shameful kink, anyway.

There, that was the problem. It wouldn't be as bad if it was just any old glasses kink, but when it was Texas, it was something he didn't want to share with anyone. Rather, it was something he'd only be able to share with someone he loved and trusted. Not just _anyone_ could touch Texas. It was a realization that was making him re-evaluate his feelings for England. Yes, he was attracted to England, and of course he had been toying with the idea of some no strings attached sex with him, but did he love him?

He wasn't sure, which meant he'd have to abort his mission and try to put it out of his mind.

----

America felt a pang of regret when the next world conference came and he spent the entire time avoiding England, especially since England always looked a little hurt when he avoided his gaze or ignored him when he tried to speak with him, but seeing him just reminded the American of the mess he'd wound up in.

Sure, it had been fun spending time with England those few weeks during his Operation: Four Eyes, even when England was infuriated with him, and England was a good-looking nation even with his obnoxiously large eyebrows and perpetual scowl, but that didn't make it love. If wanting to get into someone pants was love, then France's heart would have exploded by then.

Perhaps England was thinking that he'd driven America away completely with that vital regions threat (and admittedly, that was part of it) and he wanted to apologize for it. Maybe he'd gotten as used to America's presence as America had his. Or maybe it was something deeper than that. Despite the ache in his heart and his desire to find the truth, America thought he didn't want to know what was really running through England's mind when he looked so disappointed at America's standoffishness.

The last day of the conference finally drew to a close without incident, and America thought he was in the clear and could go back to analyzing himself without having to worry about avoiding England.

Those hopes were dashed when he found England waiting outside his hotel room. He would have turned and ran the other way had England not spotted him.

"We need to talk," England stated simply with a steely expression and folded arms.

"What about?" America asked, feigning ignorance. He knew he was completely transparent, and he half wanted England to just call him on it.

There was a tense silence while England looked him straight in the eye and America found it hard not to imagine England wearing Texas while he did so, which made all those uncomfortable thoughts and cries of "remember the Alamo!" swim around in his head, so he broke England's gaze. He heard England sigh deeply and he lifted his head again.

"You insufferable, unbelievable fool," England said with no small trace of regret and pushed past America.

"Yes, but I'm _your_ fool," America muttered under his breath and then froze. Somewhere a record exploded into thousands of pieces along with America's thoughts, which revealed a dusty, forgotten light in his mind that finally clicked on. He turned and stared desperately at England's retreating back.

It wasn't just that he'd enjoyed spending time with England those few weeks he'd been trying to get glasses on his face, or that he'd found England attractive for years even before that. No, it was something that went back centuries, just as France had said. He finally saw the deeper meaning beneath every conversation, every fight, they'd ever had. The longing beneath the banter, those looks and touches that lingered just so, and all those offers from England that he'd ignored, but now he couldn't believe he hadn't seen the obvious implications behind them. It was odd how he'd been willfully oblivious all that time, but just like that, the veil dropped and he saw the truth.

_I love you. I have to be with you. _

"England!" America cried out and quickly ran to catch up with the Englishman.

"Go away, America," England snapped and picked up his pace.

America, feeling a bit desperate, grabbed England's arm and slammed him against the wall. He pinned him there with his hands on either side of the Englishman's face, so if England really wanted to leave, it would be easy to do so. He hoped he wouldn't want to, though.

"England, I-" He stopped as anything he might have wanted to say died in his throat. It was strange, but despite being loud and able to come up with something (usually ridiculous) to say at the drop of a hat, America found he couldn't tell England how he felt about him. Instead he felt suddenly shy and embarrassingly awkward. Especially since England was staring at him with wide, terrified (hopeful) green eyes and was breathing a little heavily.

"I-" America tried again, but he swore his tongue was tied up in knots, because he was once again left just staring dumbly at England instead of declaring his love in the most awesomely romantic way possible. With England trapped between his arms in a hotel hallway. Right. He swallowed the thickness in his throat and decided to put his mouth to use in another way. By leaning forward and kissing England instead.

England's reaction was instantaneous, as he let out a growl in his throat and pressed back with more eagerness and skill than America was frankly expecting from his grumpy object of affection. Not that he was complaining, because the mutual response was making the urge to follow through with Operation: Four Eyes rear its head with a vengeance.

He disentangled himself from England's firm hold on him, ignoring the grunt of protest and hands in his hair trying to tug him back, and fumbled clumsily with his glasses. His heart pounded with anticipation as he placed the frames carefully on England's face. With those dark, half-lidded eyes and those flushed cheeks, the glasses had never had a better match before, and England had never looked so desirable. America's mind was turning to mush and more primitive instincts were taking over.

"America? What is this?" England asked with a frown, surfacing from his haze slightly, and moved to pull the glasses off his face.

"Keep them on," America hissed and his hands skittered down England's body, any shyness or awkwardness having been successfully quashed by desire.

"Americaaaa-aah!," England gasped and America caught him just in time before he crumpled to the floor as his knees gave out. America swung him easily into his arms and practically ran to his room. It was a bit hard to juggle holding England and fumbling with the keycard, but where there's a will, there's a way and soon he was elbowing the door open.

"Sorry, England, but this has been coming for centuries, after all," America said thickly, not giving England a chance to reply before he tossed him on his bed and let the door slam shut behind him.

----

"America," England choked out breathlessly, hands still fisted tightly in the sheets and chest rising and falling rapidly in an effort to calm his senses.

"Hmm?" America hummed from the rather comfortable spot he'd discovered at England's neck, where he was peppering butterfly kisses.

"What the hell was that?"

"The best sex you've ever had?" America smirked as he hoisted himself up to catch England's sputtering lips in a deep kiss, delicately plucking the glasses off his face as he pulled away.

"I mean _that!_" He gestured wildly at Texas as America replaced the glasses on his face.

America paused and regarded England for a moment. The Briton was still breathing rapidly and his whole body was flushed from exertion, still desirable even without Texas framing his face. America smiled a little sheepishly and scratched his head. If he told England the truth, then he was sealing the deal. It was a forever type affair and not just a one night stand. He kissed England again, softly, and then flopped at his side.

"Funny story that. You remember that day you asked what made these glasses so special..?"


End file.
